


Taking the Reins

by al_fletcher, athenril_of_kirkwall (al_fletcher)



Series: Aether Effect (With Smut) [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Horse Racing, Prompt Fic, Romance, Skyhold (Dragon Age), Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27887251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/al_fletcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/athenril_of_kirkwall
Summary: Cassandra comes down to the stables to get some refresher horse-riding lessons. Blackwall's there.
Relationships: Blackwall/Cassandra Pentaghast
Series: Aether Effect (With Smut) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1227941
Kudos: 4
Collections: DA Drunk Writing Circle Prompt Fics





	Taking the Reins

**Author's Note:**

> Self-prompt for Dragon Age DWC, to add to the Blackwall/Cassandra tag!

Blackwall was seated by the fire in the barn, carefully tooling a chess piece.

Dorian had taken his frustration from losing five consecutive games to Cullen out on the defenceless board, setting some of them on fire and ripping one to shreds with necrotic energy. Although Josephine had promised to send someone to Val Royeaux to shop for a replacement set, the Warden had taken it upon himself to carve replacements until their envoy had returned.

Besides, since the Inquisitor had decided that she only needed the Iron Bull to hold the line as she explored some recently uncovered ruins in the Emerald Graves, he was getting bored out of his mind, having completed the rest of the tasks he needed to do for the day.

Accompanying Rivka were the self-designated elven expert, Solas, and in what he assumed to be a deliberate provocation of her apostate lover or at the very least a representative of an alternate perspective, the self-designated elven skeptic, Sera. This, along with Vivienne following their envoy to the Orlesian capital and Cole doing…whatever he was doing…left a scarce few of their companions back at Skyhold, including the Lady Seeker, who’d seemed to have been troubled by something ever since settling in.

Speaking of which, that definitely was her coming down the long stairs leading from the main keep. As he turned his attention back to the eyes of the miniature warrior he was working on in wood, he idly wondered what precisely she could be up to down in this courtyard; the surgeon’s tent was comfortingly empty, and it was hardly as though she did much in the way of shopping amongst the stalls which greeted new arrivals.

Looking back up, it seemed to him that she was heading directly to his barn. The breath caught slightly in his throat as he saw her approach him, then dissipated as she went past the barn to look at the stables, leaning on the fence with great consideration, then sighing in that way she usually did.

Putting down the chisel, Blackwall walked towards her, asking from behind, “Is there something in the stables you needed, Lady Seeker?”

Cassandra turned towards him, mildly surprised. “Ah! No, I do not think so, Warden Blackwall. Unless…”

“Unless?”, he asked inquisitively.

“Have you had much experience horse-riding?”, she asked, then shaking her head. “Of course you must have, being a squire in the Grand Tourney and excelling in it, then a Warden alone on the road. Forgive my foolishness.”

Blackwall chuckled slightly, saying, “No need to chastise yourself, Lady Seeker, but yes, I’ve been on the road for quite a fair bit. Surely you also must have needed to ride to wherever you needed for…Seeker business?”

Cassandra sighed deeply, looking distantly. “You would think so, but on the whole I much preferred following a carriage. There have been markedly few occasions where I needed to ride at length, and certainly not in battle. Animals do not tend to react well to uses of Seeker abilities.”

“I can imagine,” Blackwall mused. “I was always much better at the mêlée on foot, but I performed well enough on horseback to get as far as I did during the Grand Tourney. Is there a particular occasion which needs you to ride forth, Lady Seeker? I trust it isn’t an emergency?”

She turned around, sitting back on the fence as she looked in his direction again, noticing the sudden edge of concern in his voice. “Oh, nothing of the kind. Well, not a pressing one. I…have been receiving reports that some malefactors of the recent war are still at large and asked the Inquisitor to inform me if she came across intelligence concerning them.”

“To what end?”, Blackwall asked, filling in the brief silence.

Her gaze steeled. “To bring them to justice, of course. Their victims will never rest easy until they are found and made to pay for their crimes.”

He drew in a breath, responding, “Ah, of course.”

“You don’t approve?”, she asked.

“No, not at all. It’s a worthy creed,” he said carelessly. “But I fail to see what this has to do with my experience riding horses, to be perfectly honest.”

Staring into the distance, through the end walls of the stables, again, Cassandra explained, “I instructed Rivka to send word to me of such intelligence where she went, and I’ve just received Leliana’s raven with a message saying they’ve reached the Emerald Graves. I shall ride to join them upon further news.”

“And you’d be travelling yourself to join them should that happen,” Blackwall finished, comprehending the situation.

“Precisely,” Cassandra said. “However, I had failed to account for the fact that we are high up in the mountains, and I shall be responsible for taking myself and a steed down the mountain paths, and I haven’t had the time to familiarise myself with any of the horses that made it to Haven.”

“I see,” he said, nodding. “Undoubtedly Horsemaster Dennet can give you better instruction—”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Master Blackwall,” The old stablemaster said, leading a large pony from the stables. “I think even the stable boys could get Princess Mairyn here eating out of the Lady Seeker’s hand. Why don’t you give it a shot? Seems to me you’ve been doing nothing but whittling wood all day, anyway.”

Cassandra turned to him, glancing over the fence at the horse.

“With such a glowing testimonial, how can I refuse?”, Blackwall said dryly. “And this is the thanks I get for baling your hay when I’m not woodworking, Master Dennet.”

With a twinkle in his eye, Dennet remarked, “You’ll thank me later, lad. Meant to be reading the latest news from Seanna anyway. Wonder who’s been besting the circuit lately.”

As she approached the Dalish All-Bred, Cassandra asked, “Does it ever concern you that the Inquisition’s stablemaster also organises races on the side?”

“I can’t imagine why it would,” Blackwall said, crossing the fence. “Shall we see how you get on, Lady Seeker?”

Turning to him, she said, “Cassandra.”

“I beg your pardon?”, Blackwall asked.

“If you’re going to be judging my riding, I think you can save on the syllable and use my name, Warden Blackwall,” she said, sizing up the saddle and the stirrup on Princess Mairyn’s left side.

“I’ll thank you to do the same for mine…Cassandra,” Blackwall said, feeling her name roll off his tongue, and idly thinking he liked the sound of it.

Still sensing her smile curling her lip, she stood on the stirrup and, with an effort, mounted the pony, adjusting her seating and getting her to trot, then break out in a gallop after a while as she took the pony around the picket a couple of rounds, coming to a hard stop in front of Blackwall, reins tightly in her hand. She looked down at the Warden, who was scratching his beard mirthfully.

“Oh, out with it already,” she said, “What was so terrible?”

“Well,” Blackwall started, “You’re still in the saddle, so….”

Her eyes narrowing, she said, “Don’t make me kick you from over here, Blackwall.”

Raising his hands defensively, Blackwall said, “I was merely stating a fact, Lady Seek…Cassandra. But I think I do know why it is you prefer galloping to trotting or cantering, although you won’t be able to make poor Princess Mairyn gallop all the way down the Frostbacks.”

“And why is that?”, she asked.

“As it stands,” Blackwall explained, “You’re riding this poor pony hard by gripping her as tight as possible with your legs when she’s trotting and essentially holding on for dear life once she gets up to speed after you’ve kicked her in the sides to get there, and it’s not helped when you’ve got a death-grip on her reins.”

Cassandra bit her lip, exhaling as accepted took the criticism.

He continued, “Well, it’s not as though you wouldn’t be doing much the same in a fight, but…”

“…it’s hardly appropriate for a gentle ride down the mountain path out of here,” she finished.

“Quite so,” Blackwall said. “If you promise you won’t go any faster than a trot, I’ll try to walk alongside you.”

“Very well,” Cassandra said, waiting for him to do so. He reached upwards with his hand, finding her wrist and guiding it gently as she got Princess Mairyn walking.

“Relax your grip, Cassandra,” he said gently, also glancing at her side. “At this speed you don’t need to clutch her tight with your knees either. Same holds for trotting or cantering, really. Just sit back and guide her gently. You can get her trotting with a slight kick.”

The pony started speeding up a little, and Blackwall broke into a light jog, finding the breath to say, “That’s good—don’t forget to relax. Break into a canter when you’re able to, and try that for a couple of rounds instead of forcing our poor Princess into a gallop.”

Moments later, she did that very thing, passing Blackwall thrice before bringing the pony to a far gentler halt than her first attempt, gingerly dismounting before him.

“It seems your prowess is well-earned, Ward…Blackwall,” she said. “Thank you.”

“I think you’ll find the ride down far easier without you attempting to choke Princess Mairyn with your thighs this time,” Blackwall said, before coughing politely and skipping a beat, continuing, “Should you need further guidance and should I be away on other business I’m sure you tear Dennet from his betting book.”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Cassandra said, smiling as she gazed back over to the barn. “Perhaps once you’re done making replacements you could bring them up for a game of chess. I’m sure I owe you that much, Blackwall.”

“I, ah,” he said, scratching the back of his head, “I’m hardly any good at the game, I fear. I mainly find the pieces to look pretty.”

“Oh?”, she asked, genuinely surprised. “Well, that’s even better.”

“How so?”, he asked in return.

“I get to teach you something in return, of course,” she said. “If within a month you manage to make Dorian break the board, I’ll consider it a victory.”

“I believe the pawns you play with in chess are meant to be on the board, not your friends,” Blackwall retorted.

She smiled then laughed a brilliant laugh, nearly a giggle, and turned away, saying, “It’ll be a memory to keep me warm on the mountain path to be sure. Until then, Blackwall.”

With that, she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the thought of seeing her again across a chessboard, and perhaps the lingering mental image of the Lady Seeker’s thighs astride that horse. No, it surely couldn’t be that. And _surely_ Horsemaster Dennet wasn’t chuckling to himself from across the paddock, having watched the whole thing from his little shack.

Because if it _was_ and he’d somehow engineered the whole damned thing, Blackwall swore that this was the absolute last time he baled hay for the man.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: https://athenril-of-kirkwall.tumblr.com/post/636625781085405184/


End file.
